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This weekend, Canadian rap deity Drake released 22-track
“playlist” More Life. Son Raw delves into a sprawling, grime-influenced odyssey
that finds the rapper battling the same old problems, but honing in on what he
does best – giving a platform to his expertly curated guests.
Despite his portentousness and monomaniacal obsession with
rap’s throne, Drake has never never possessed the gravitas of Nas, Jay-Z or
Kendrick Lamar, nor the style-bending inventiveness of Lil Wayne, Quavo or
Future. Instead, his talent lies in fusing the pop rap of Nelly or Ma$e with
the underground’s self-awareness and anxiety and setting it to beats breezy
enough to divert you from the fact that the man’s a bit of a dickhead.
More Life plays to these strengths, acting as a travelogue
of Drake’s various interests, merging them into an overarching ur-genre of
black pop, one reference point at a time. One moment he’s ‘pon road with Giggs
scowling, the next he’s lounging by the bar with Moodymann, or taking a quick
flight to Joburg with Black Coffee before dipping back to Atlanta via Jamaica.
It would be easy to bemoan the lack of authenticity, but the
first half of More Life is pretty much what you’d expect a globetrotting
careerist rap superstar with a think tank full of tastemakers to sound like, in
a best case scenario. It’s also a fairly accurate reflection of Toronto – an
immensely multicultural sprawl without a single dominant personality where a
popular hoodie defensively reads “Toronto vs. Everybody.”
But while Drake sounds completely laughable acting road,
particularly next to a tough-as-nails Giggs, the breezier material on More Life
marks a welcome return to form for a yacht rap superstar who’s recently spent
too much time convincing himself he’s Canada’s answer to 2Pac.
It’s music for swimming pools and luxury hotels, and guest
spots by Sampha, Skepta, Giggs and Atlanta’s finest ensure Drake never has to
do much heavy lifting. And thankfully we don’t have to hear the Canadian
crooner complain about women driving his car to the drugstore to pick up
feminine supplies. Sure, he probably shouldn’t have called a track
‘Gyalchester’ without giving Spooky a credit, but compared to Views’
never-ending stream of misery, it’s at least fun.
Unfortunately, More Life is about 20 minutes too long,
something that rapidly becomes apparent on the album’s back half when Drake
abandons his tried-and-tested tropical house grooves and returns to the
nocturnal musings he’s delivered one too many times. Here, it becomes
impossible to separate Drake the hitmaker from Drake the narcissist; all of the
Jennifer Lopez samples and Kanye West guest spots can’t save him from his worst
impulses – from narcoleptic production choices to callous immaturity
masquerading as depth.
The most telling line on More Life is hidden halfway through
‘Do Not Disturb’, the grandiose closing statement we’ve come to expect from an
OVO project. In what’s meant to be yet another jab at Meek Mill, Drake lets
slip that he’s “a reflection of all of your insecurities.” It’s a statement
that when applied to the listener, accurately reflects why Drake has held pop
culture in a chokehold for so long. We listen to Kendrick or Beyonce to feel
empowered and righteous, but we listen to Drake because deep down, given the
chance, we’d gladly wallow in our own misery if it came with a private jet and
luxury accommodation.
Drake isn’t the first rapper to lay bare his poor decisions
by any means, but while many rappers are shunted into a self-destructive
lifestyle by harsh economic conditions, Drake doesn’t have any excuses. This
makes him a supremely unlikeable man, but he knows that plenty of others would
make the same choices and set to the right beats, we can’t help but listen.
He’s probably not the chart topping pop rapper 2017 needs, but he’s almost
certainly the one it deserves.
Article Credits Factmag.com
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